See You Up There Page #2

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Attention!

At ease!

Wait a minute.

He isn't leaving yet.

What?

Come with me.

This lady's interested in your fallen comrade.

I'm Madeleine Pricourt.

I'm Edouard's sister.

She wishes to pray by his grave but doesn't know where it is.

Is it far away?

Is it far, Maillard?

It'll be too dark to pray when we get there.

The lady may pray when she likes, don't you agree?

- Of course. - Good.

Lead the way and we'll follow.

I'll escort you, miss.

Don't move, Maillard.

They wanted to fetch the body. But that was forbidden.

Bodies couldn't be moved. Not that Pradelle cared!

What's this I hear?

Your mate Pricourt's dead?

The last I saw he was fine apart from a dental problem.

He saw you at Hill 113.

If anything happens to me, he talks.

Despite being dead?

It's 20 miles to Pierreval cemetery.

The biggest. There's an amazing choice.

Find me a corpse and we're quits.

Let's get going, Private.

Yes, sir.

Here it is!

Here it is!

Excuse me...

I'd like to see him.

Leave it to me.

So?

What does he look like?

A Senegalese infantryman!

Off to the Pricourt vault, Snow White!

Pradelle persuaded her not to look.

And then?

They loaded up the corpse.

He must be in the Pricourt vault by now.

Paris, November 1919

I found a flat in Paris.

The bank wouldn't have me back, so I got what I could.

It was no big deal.

I wasn't picky after 2 years in trenches.

Then I fetched Edouard.

Being dead, he couldn't go home.

My big problem was morphine.

With all the war wounded, it was everywhere, but not free.

So what did you do?

All war had taught me was to fight innocent men.

So I did that to get morphine.

I'm ashamed.

- Why? - They were veterans.

Veterans?

Veterans like me, but disabled.

They got some morphine

but they sold it rather than starve. I picked on them.

Don't feel like drawing again?

Look.

I got you paper and an easel

and set up your gear.

Dampierre Military Cemetery A place of rest and dignity

Do you mind, sir!

The mud here reminds me of the trenches.

You wouldn't know.

But he would.

So who is he, exactly?

Sorry?

Ernest Blachet.

Corporal, 133rd Rgt. Died for France.

September 4, 1917.

E-13. Lce Cpl Simon Perlatte.

6th Army. Died for France, June 16, '17.

So?

What do you mean "so"?

Your crews put the coffins in the wrong places.

Why did my Chinese do that?

Because they can't read!

For this job

you've employed men who can't read!

Can't you read?

These morons can't read!

But what does it matter, eh?

What?

When parents visit

they're not going to dig to check the body.

Hold on! Gentlemen,

we owe the dead our respect.

Respect?

Then why, for 2 months, in your own cemetery,

have you let illiterates bury them?

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